Eternal Winter
by A Day Too Late - 45
Summary: He feels all the feelings that he once held shrivel up and die- never to live again. And when it had all left, the only thing brave enough to take its place was cold indifference. Robin's thoughts on being replaced by Jason.


He really shouldn't be surprised.

Bruce was a very difficult and stubborn man. It would only make sense that he'd get a new sidekick as soon as the old one had lost all its use.

He really wishes he could beat the man senseless sometimes.

Because, really? What gave him the right to take some kid in and give him his old name- actually, it's still his name.

_(Who does that?) _

It's the name his mother gave him. The only thing he still has from his parents and Bruce just hands it out like a flyer.

_(Did he not mean a thing to him?)_

Is it the name his-what's his name? Jason? - mother gave to him? Did it mean anything else to him than an adrenaline rush every once in a while?

Barbara tells him to stop being jealous and the Titans barely even know him. He's lost all contact with Alfred and Uncle Clark and Wally never come to see him anymore. Bruce clearly doesn't even care and Jason is the least likely to ever comprehend.

Did no one else really understand the significance?

_('No', a treacherous voice whispers, 'because they never cared. Never loved you. You've always been alone.')_

He's livid. More than he's ever been. More than when Slade manipulated him and when any other villain decided they'd give him hell.

Maybe even more than when Tony Zucco murdered his parents.

_(Maybe. He really still can't decide.)_

He really wants to break something. Something fragile just so he can hear the satisfying sound of something breaking.

_(Because it masks the sound of his shattering heart)_

He takes the nearest thing to his hand and chucks it at the wall with breakneck speed. It creates a dent in his grey wall and it explodes upon contact. A piece of wood comes ricocheting back at him and it leaves behind a superficial cut on his cheek.

He puts a gloved hand to his cheek and wipes away the sluggishly flowing blood.

_(It's not enough-__never_ _will_ _be_ _enough)_

By the end of it all, there are multiple dents and holes in his walls and everything breakable is unsalvageable. His furniture is upturned and his bed is on the opposite side of the room. His knuckles are split and there are cuts along his body from the debris. All of his suits are torn and not even the best of tailors could ever restore them.

_(Not even you, Alfred)_

And all the_ 'R'_s that once stood proudly on his suit's breast are now at the bottom of the bay.

_(Because apparently, he's not Robin anymore. No, it's a child's who couldn't even begin to comprehend the severity of the name.)_

And all of a sudden he feels so _so_ hallow. It's like someone carved the inside of him out and all that's left of him is his skin.

He feels dead.

_(And a part of him doesn't think that sounds so bad.)_

"Was it all just a joke?" He whispers to nothing. "Wa- was it all just a lie? Did I really mean that little to you?" His voice cracks.

"What am I supposed to do now, huh? Who am I without my name? The one that you just carelessly gave away like it- like_ I_ never meant anything to you. Don't you get it? That's all I have. There is _nothing else_ in me besides Robin. I don't even know who Dick Grayson is anymore because _you took that from me too_."

He chokes back a sob. "Haven't you taken enough? Haven't I given you everything I can? What more do you want?" his voice rises. "What? Do you want me to- to _die_ to repay my debt?!"

He gives a dry throaty bark of laughter, absolutely insane and humorless. "Is that it?! Would you like to do it yourself?! I'll even give you a clean shot to my heart. Or, how about you slit my throat- it really doesn't matter to me because I have nothing else left to lose! I have no identity, no family, and no friends- because _you_ took it." He snarls. "You took it all, you sick bastard."

_(No one answers. But it's not like anyone ever did.)_

He deflates in on himself and the only sound is his heavy breathing. "Yo-you're not even worth it. I don't even know why- why I ever looked up to you so much. Because, now, all I see is that you're just a foolish, insecure man that's so one-minded he can't even see what's been around him the entire time. And one day, you're going to finally look around you and see no one's there. That they all left and gave up. You'll die cold and alone with no one who loves you."

He feels the connection he had with his once thought of Father wither away and die- the one forged upon mutual understanding and the shared need for justice that once withstood the very test of psychos and all things corrupt.

It was like the coming winter. It caused everything that was living to slowly shrivel up and die- never to fully live again like it once did. And that is what he felt between his guarding- all the love, understanding, safety, gratitude, and happiness he once held toward him simply vanished- and with it so did his disappointment, hurt, bitterness, frustration, and hate.

And this winter would be a harsh and unrelenting one that would never let up.

_(Eternal Winter)_

He gave a harsh, tired smile. "How does it feel, huh? To know that the one person who knew you better than anyone- loved you more than anyone, couldn't care less? How does it feel to be all alone even when you're surrounded by people?"

_(It feels awful. Like someone was pressing a hot poker to his chest and never lessened the pressure- not until it had burned all the way to his heart. Over and over and over again, day in and day out. Till all that was left was a charred, shriveled up, sorry excuse for a heart.)_

He feels one tear leave his eye, but none follow after. He does not allow it, for that is the last tear he will ever shed for his mentor.

And once the tear hits the ground, he feels the indifference flow in and fill all that had left.

_(He has never been this happy for nothing.)_

And if he saw a blinking red dot die out, well, to him, it never really made a difference.


End file.
